The Day Prussia Ruled the World
by Hazel-Beka
Summary: Gilbert decides that what the world really needs is to be ruled by him. He is happy to oblige. Oneshot


**A/N - Before you ask, the next chapter of Duties _is_ in progress and it should be up either tomorrow or the day after since I don't have college on Monday. This is a little something I wrote for a friend of mine on LJ because it was her birthday this week. This is pretty cracky, I warn you in advance, but I hope you can enjoy it anyway XD**

"Can't you find something productive to do?"

Ludwig has snapped the words as he sat at his desk, trying to work and discovering firsthand that this was an impossible task while Gilbert was in the room. He should probably have thought through his words more carefully, because Gilbert's idea of a productive day was what the rest of the world called 'World War Three', but Ludwig was tired and stressed and did not appreciate his important documents being torn into shreds and used as a nest by Gilbird. And so, attempting to salvage the remains of his paperwork, the fateful words had left Ludwig's lips. And Gilbert had paused and considered them.

"OK," he said, shrugging. "I will." Gilbird flew out of the remains of its short-lived home and landed happily on his head, and then Gilbert turned and set off to conquer the world.

He started with Italy, deciding that it would be the easiest to defeat. The twins, when he found them, were sitting in a restaurant, eating pasta. As soon as he entered, they noticed him and started to tremble.

"Hello, Gilbert," Feliciano greeted him in a wavering voice. "What brings you to Italy?"

"I've come to overthrow your government and rule you with an iron fist," Gilbert informed him. "Any questions?" Lovino stood in a terrified rage.

"You can't invade us, you bastard! You don't even have your own country!"

"Does this mean you're going to fight back?" Gilbert asked in a low, threatening tone. Both brothers looked alarmed by the suggestion. Feliciano picked up a white napkin and waved it like a flag.

"I didn't say that!" Lovino protested. "Have the country! Take it! Just don't hurt us, damnit!" Gilbert smirked victoriously. That had been easy. He started to walk away, but Feliciano called after him.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked tearfully.

"Because West told me to," Gilbert replied, and shut the restaurant door on the brothers, one crying and one shouting something very unflattering about potatoes.

High on his victory, Gilbert was now confident that by the end of the day, the whole world would be his. He was perhaps a little _too_ confident, however, because the next country he decided to visit was Hungary. On the way, he purchased a saucepan, reasoning that if he also had a weapon, Elizabeta wouldn't stand a chance.

He found her at home, drinking tea with Roderich, although as soon as he entered, she seemed to pull a frying pan from nowhere and brandished it at him. In response, he held up the saucepan.

"Today is the day that I'll finally beat you," he promised. Elizabeta glared at him.

"We'll see," she said.

Several epic clashes of pans later, the saucepan was a sad, crumpled lump of metal and Gilbert was lying on the carpet with a high-heeled shoe digging into his chest and a frying pan pointed at his face. Roderich applauded politely.

"Now get out," Elizabeta ordered, withdrawing her foot, "and don't come back until you're worthy of challenging me!" Scowling, Gilbert slunk out of the house, wondering who he could conquer next to cheer himself up. After a brief contemplation, the answer was obvious.

Gilbert burst into Antonio's home and opened his mouth to proclaim that Spain was now officially part of Prussia. Then he paused and closed his mouth again. Antonio was curled up on the sofa, fast asleep, and a quick glance at the clock revealed that he was having a siesta. Gilbert frowned. How inconsiderate! Sleeping through an invasion was downright rude. It was also practically a surrender, so Gilbert decided to treat it as one.

When Antonio woke up an hour later, he was surprised to find a note taped to his forehead. Pulling it off, he read through it in bewilderment, discovering that while he had napped, the relevant paperwork had been filled out, handing over all Spanish territory to Prussia. The odd thing was that it even contained his signature. Antonio frowned, wondering when he had signed his consent to Gilbert taking over his country. The contents of the document were rather odd too, proclaiming that Prussia had sued Spain because their flags were designed too similarly, and in winning the lawsuit, Prussia had been compensated by receiving ownership of Spain. If Antonio hadn't known better, he would have been suspicious, but since there was no way that Gilbert would fake documents and forge his signature, he merely sighed and accepted that justice had been done.

Meanwhile, Gilbert had moved swiftly on and at that moment was facing off against Feliks and Toris, neither of whom were particularly enthusiastic about a supreme Prussian world order.

"That's, like, totally not cool," Feliks said, placing his hands on his hips and glaring. "We are _so_ not surrendering, right, Toris?"

"Right," the Lithuanian agreed, also standing firm. "Don't you realise that there's nothing you can do, Gilbert? It's not like you have an army."

"That," Gilbert replied gleefully, "is where you're wrong. Forward march, soldiers!" A cloud of small, fluffy birds flew towards him obediently. Gilbert frowned. "Hey!" he snapped. "I said march!" The chicks fluttered down to the ground and attempted to obey, but birds aren't built for marching, and a lot of them bumped into each other and fell to the ground until the entire army had collapsed into a heap. Enraged cheeps floated up from it as the birds tried to free themselves.

"It looks like your army has fallen," Toris observed.

"We, like, didn't even have to use the ponies," Feliks added. Gilbert scowled.

"My Gilbirds could kick the shit out of your ponies any day," he snapped.

"Oh, you did _not_ just call me out," Feliks replied. "My ponies can drop it like it's hot, girlfriend!"

"I have no idea what you just said," Gilbert replied, "but you're about to go down. Attack, my Gilbird army!" The chicks wriggled about more vigorously trying to escape from the pile, but all that this achieved was the heap of birds collapsing a little, causing landslides of chicks to cascade down to the ground. There was an embarrassed pause. "OK, fine, you can fly," Gilbert allowed grudgingly. There was a moment of fluffy wings trying to find enough room to flap, and then the army rose into the air, swooping towards their target.

"Oh my God!" Feliks screamed. "They're, like, totally going for the crops!"

"Stop them!" Toris pleaded to Gilbert. "We give in! You can rule us! Just don't destroy the harvest!"

"I knew you'd see things my way," Gilbert crowed. "Gilbirds! Retreat!" The army reluctantly stopped their assault on the crops. "I think," Gilbert said thoughtfully, watching them, "that it's time to return to Hungary."

Elizabeta was standing in the kitchen, waiting for the water in the kettle to boil and humming absentmindedly to herself, when women's intuition suddenly struck and she got the feeling that something bad was about to happen. She grabbed for her frying pan just as a cloud of Gilbirds swarmed in through the open window, aiming straight for her. Adjusting her grip on the pan, Elizabeta swung like an athlete being confronted by an army of tennis balls. Smack! went the pan. Pow! Wallop!

When Gilbert hoisted himself up through the window, he was confronted with another pile of chicks. "You monster!" he cried, pointing a trembling finger at Elizabeta. At that moment, Roderich walked into the room.

"What's–" He stopped as he took in the scene before him.

"She killed them!" Gilbert sobbed accusingly.

"No I didn't!" Elizabeta protested. "I would never kill cute little birds! Even if they _were_ attacking me," she added, shooting Gilbert a disapproving glare. Roderich picked up one of the birds.

"It's just unconscious," he diagnosed. Gilbert sighed in relief.

"But how am I going to get them home?" he wondered.

"You're not," Roderich replied calmly, "because I'm confiscating them."

"You can't confiscate my army!" Gilbert argued. Elizabeta raised the pan again. "Or maybe you can," Gilbert conceded, stepping back warily. "But when I rule the world, I'll have my revenge!" He dived back out through the window, leaving the other two nations to shake their heads pityingly at his delusions.

After the defeat of his Gilbird army, Gilbert was very annoyed. He needed somebody to take his anger out on, so he headed towards the one country that he wanted revenge on the most. Usually, he would have approached more cautiously and come up with some sort of plan, but he was upset and needed a quick victory to remedy this. As a result, he was totally improvising when he flung open the door to Ivan's house.

"Ah, Gilbert," Ivan said, his face lighting up into a smile. "So you've finally decided to come back to me, _da_?"

"Actually," Gilbert snarled, "the tables have turned. This time, Russia's going to become one with _me_." Ivan's smile became slightly more dangerous.

"And how do you intend to achieve that?" he asked.

"By suing you," Gilbert proclaimed victoriously, deciding to use the same trick that he had used on Antonio. Why not? It wasn't like he was getting points for originality, and it had worked once, hadn't it?

"Why are you suing me?" Ivan asked, looking confused.

"Because Russia sounds too much like Prussia," Gilbert replied. "You're blatantly ripping my country off! Well, it ends now!"

One lawsuit later and Gilbert left Russia, looking smug and ticking another country off his list. He felt a lot better after kicking Ivan's ass in the courtroom. While he was internally celebrating and giving himself pats on the back, however, he accidentally bumped into someone.

"Hey, watch where you're – Francis!" he exclaimed happily as he recognised his friend.

"Gilbert, _mon cher_," Francis replied, smiling at him. "You look very cheerful today. What brings you out of Germany?"

"I'm taking over the world," Gilbert explained. "How would you feel about becoming part of the glorious Prussian empire?" Francis laughed.

"What would you do if I refused?" he asked, clearly not taking Gilbert seriously.

"In that case, I'd invade you using force," the Prussian replied. "I already rule enough countries to gather a large enough army. Look, I'll prove it." He showed Francis the relevant paperwork proving that he did indeed now own several countries. Francis stared at it, amazed.

"You're serious," he said faintly. "_Mon dieu_. In that case, I suppose I have no choice but to surrender peacefully."

"That's right," Gilbert replied, pleased that it was so easy. He should have known better.

"However," Francis continued, and his smile turned predatory, "there is one condition…"

When Gilbert finally walked out of France some time later, he was wincing a little at each step, but it had been worth it because France was now his. While he was wondering where to strike next and trying to ignore the ache caused by Francis' condition, he suddenly had an epiphany.

"Elizabeta," he crowed to himself, "this time you're going down!"

As the weather was so good that day, Elizabeta and Roderich had relocated to the garden after moving the Gilbirds to one of the bedrooms to stop them cluttering the kitchen. As a result, it was here that Gilbert found them as he climbed over the gate at the side of the house and spied them sitting on a bench. Elizabeta frowned when he popped up in front of them.

"Again?" she asked irritably. "Can't you just admit defeat?"

"This time, you'll be the one who has to admit defeat!" Gilbert promised, and he pointed a flamethrower at her.

"Wait a minute!" Roderich intervened, sounding alarmed. "Isn't this taking things a little too far?"

"Don't worry," Elizabeta reassured him, pulling her pan out from underneath the bench and standing up. "I can take him."

When Gilbert was once again lying flat on his back with a pan-shaped dent in his head, he considered that perhaps he should have realised that pans are designed to deal with heat. This was becoming ridiculous! He had lost to this stupid girl three times! Three!

"Are you going to give up yet?" Elizabeta asked from somewhere above him.

"Never!" Gilbert replied, somehow managing to get to his feet, staggering a little. He just needed some more experience in conquering, he reasoned as he stumbled away, trying to clear the ringing in his head. And so it was time to go for the big one. The most powerful country on Earth: America.

Some time later, Gilbert was standing on a stage in Washington, a crowd of Americans clustered around and listening intently as he gave a speech. He had started a 'Prussia for President' campaign and it had gained an amazing amount of support.

"I promise to bring change to this country!" Gilbert shouted to the crowd. "I promise that if you vote Prussia into power, I will give you more fast food restaurants, cheaper plastic surgery and free healthcare!" A appalled gasp rose up from the crowd. "OK, maybe not the free healthcare," Gilbert amended hastily. His listeners breathed a sigh of relief that became a cheer. By the end of the next hour, the votes had been counted and support for a Prussian rule had won by a landslide.

"You can't do this!" Alfred wailed. "I'm not going to stand for this! I'll rebel and throw all the wurst into Boston Harbour and _then_ you'll be sorry!"

"Yeah right," Gilbert snorted. "Like _that_ could ever happen."

On his victory tour of America, however, something very strange happened. He had gone north and suddenly everything had changed. He couldn't figure it out. Up here the accent was different, the flags that he had seen flying were different, and, strangest of all, people kept telling him that, actually, he was no longer in America.

"Where am I then?" he asked the latest person to tell him this: a young man who looked rather like Alfred and was carrying a baby polar bear.

"This is Canada," the man said wearily. "I'm Alfred's brother, Matthew, and this is my country."

"Canada, Canada," Gilbert muttered. "I've heard that name somewhere before…isn't it some kind of urban legend?" When he didn't receive a reply, he looked up, but the man had gone. "Hey, where did you go…erm…whatever your name was?" he called. Faintly, he thought he heard a voice say 'I'm right here!', but he shook it off as his imagination. "Well, if nobody owns this land then I guess I'll just take it," he shrugged, and so the mysterious Canada was added to his collection.

While looking at his world atlas that showed the territory of the new Prussian empire, Gilbert gasped as he realised that he had failed to conquer one of the most powerful countries in Europe. Immediately he headed for an airport and demanded to be let on the next flight to England.

"What's your name, sir?" asked the woman that he was harassing.

"Gilbert Beilschmidt, ruler of almost all the world," Gilbert told her proudly. The woman typed this into her computer and frowned.

"I'm sorry, sir, but the personification of Prussia is illegal in the United Kingdom," she informed him. Gilbert was outraged.

"Since when?" he demanded.

"About ten minutes ago when they heard about what happened to America," she replied. "I can offer you a flight to anywhere on the European mainland, though." Gilbert frowned in thought.

"I'll go back to France," he decided. "Maybe Francis will have an idea of how I can invade England. After all, he's a seasoned pro at it."

Francis met him at the airport in Paris. He was very sympathetic to Gilbert's problem and promised to try to help him as they drove out of the busy capital.

"If I can't fly there, maybe I should sail," Gilbert said thoughtfully. "I could send an armada from Spain. He'd never be able to defeat it!"

"Maybe," Francis replied diplomatically, "but I have a better idea. We can smuggle you in through the Eurotunnel. Although if you want me to help, I have a condition."

"Again?" Gilbert groaned. "Fine, but this time don't use anything weird." Francis smirked.

"Actually, I have a different condition this time," he said. "I want Arthur. Bring him to me when you've conquered England." Gilbert sighed in relief.

"I will," he promised. "Now take me to the tunnel!"

It was surprisingly easy for Gilbert to disguise himself and fool passport control into believing that he was a Frenchman called Pierre who was coming to England to sleep with all the women and launch a campaign to convince the Britons that snails were part of a healthy, balanced diet. The man who checked his details gave him a disgusted look but waved him through, muttering something about frogs, but Gilbert wasn't paying attention. He had done it! Now all he had to do was convince Arthur that England hadn't been invaded enough already.

When he arrived at the English nation's house, Arthur was waiting for him and not looking pleased to see him.

"I knew you'd get into the country somehow," he said, glaring at Gilbert. "It doesn't matter what you say – I'll never let you rule me!"

"I'll give you America," Gilbert promised, and Arthur paused. "All you need to do is swear allegiance to Prussia and I'll make the United States part of the United Kingdom. You'll both still be ruled by me, of course," he clarified, "but you can stick the Union Jack on Alfred's flag and make him eat scones and call soccer football and spell words properly." Arthur looked sorely tempted.

"What's the catch?" he asked suspiciously.

"Nothing," Gilbert replied, shrugging. "You'll just be part of my empire, along with the rest of the world."

"All right," Arthur replied grudgingly. "You have a deal. Where do I sign?"

"Right here," Gilbert replied, producing a document. He waited until Arthur had signed the dotted line. "Now," he said, trying to look innocent, "there's just one more thing that you have to do, but I accidentally left it in France. If you could just come over to the continent with me…"

Once he had delivered Arthur into Francis' capable hands and ignored the British expletives that had been shouted after his retreating form, Gilbert paced the streets, wracking his brains to try and finally come up with a plan to defeat Elizabeta once and for all. He considered all sorts of kitchen appliances, but none of them were a match for the frying pan. He thought and thought, until finally it hit him. It was genius! Why hadn't he thought of it before?

Elizabeta and Roderich were still in the garden when he arrived, although Roderich was just about to leave. It looked as though Gilbert had gotten there just in time to kill two birds with one stone.

"Won't you just give up?" Elizabeta asked in exasperation when she saw him. "What are you going to fight me with this time?" Gilbert smirked.

"Nothing," he replied. "I've decided to make a deal with you instead. Let me have Hungary-" he tossed her a top of the range digital camera, "-and I'll let you take pictures when I invade Roderich's vital regions." Elizabeta stared at the camera in her hands. Roderich paled.

"Don't you mean _Austria's_ vital regions?" he asked. Gilbert grinned.

"Those too," he replied. Roderich turned to his ex-wife in despair.

"Tell me you're not going to agree to this!" he pleaded. Elizabeta slowly looked from him to Gilbert and then back to the camera again.

"I'll let you keep the camera," Gilbert added. This seemed to clinch it.

"I'm sorry, Roderich," Elizabeta said, not sounding sorry in the slightest, "but this is an offer that I'm powerless to resist." Gilbert's smirk turned into a leer, and Roderich adopted an expression of total betrayal. He didn't try to escape, though, Gilbert noticed as he advanced. And then he pounced, and vital regions were seized.

After securing both Hungary and Austria as part his new world order, Gilbert consulted his map and noticed with surprise that he hadn't yet invaded his brother's country. He wondered if Ludwig had even taken a break from his work and heard about his achievements. He wouldn't put it past the other nation to be living in ignorance of his exploits. Well, in that case, his next mission might as well be to educate his little brother about current affairs. So he set off and was travelling towards Germany when –

"Gilbert. Gilbert!"

Gilbert blearily opened his eyes. He was confused. Ludwig was standing over him, looking exasperated.

"For God's sake, _bruder_, it's almost noon, you shouldn't still be sleeping," he scolded. Gilbert wondered for a moment what he was talking about, and then it hit him. Did this mean that his glorious new world order had all been a dream?

"Do I rule the world?" he asked hopefully. Ludwig stared at him blankly for a moment.

"No," he replied, and Gilbert could have cried, but didn't, because the great Prussia doesn't cry.

"Oh," he mumbled. The dream was still crystal clear in his head, taunting him. It had all be so _easy_! So attainable! Really, the methods he had used would probably have worked if it had been real, he considered, and suddenly froze. That was an interesting theory…

A few minutes later, Ludwig looked up as his brother swept through the room, heading towards the front door.

"I'm going out," Gilbert informed him, and he looked positively gleeful. Ludwig narrowed his eyes.

"What are you planning to do?" he asked suspiciously. Gilbert grinned back at him, and there was an atlas poking out of his pocket, Ludwig observed in confusion.

"I'm going to do something productive," Gilbert replied, and he set off to conquer the world.


End file.
